‘I know, but you are stuck with me.’ Bella grinned. ‘You both are.’

‘Digby Mortimer turned up at Milbury Court. On the night Dad died.’ Merrin let this drop like it was incidental.

‘You’re actually kidding me right now?’ Ruby stared at her.

‘I’m not.’

‘When?’ her sister practically yelled, ‘Jesus! You didn’t think that was worth sharing?’

‘Believe it or not, I’ve had one or two things on my mind,’ Merrin shot back.

‘What did he want, pitching up after all this time? The prick,’ Ruby added for good measure.

‘He didn’t want anything! He didn’t know I was working there.’ She pictured his lovely wife, smiling and chatting, and then his ashen face when he’d walked in . . .

‘And actually, I think it did you good, don’t you, Merry? It sounds like you laid some old ghosts to rest,’ Bella added.

‘Oh, and of course you knew about this?’ Ruby snapped, but with humour and not spite; it felt good to be able to speak this freely.

‘She answered the phone from the cupboard!’ Bella yelled in her own defence, pointing at Merrin as if whatever was amiss were her fault. They laughed and Merry realised this was just like old times, the three of them chatting the morning away without the shadow of bitterness from one of her and Ruby’s squabbles falling over them. It felt like progress, it felt like love, it felt like home. And if she closed her eyes, she could kid herself that her dad was inside, upstairs with her mum, and that Digby Mortimer hadn’t nearly succeeded in throwing her so wildly off course. This was the truth: he had not succeeded, because here she was, a little adrift and in mourning, but undoubtedly stronger than she had been. Like a house rebuilt after a flood or a tornado – rebuilt stronger than before, able to withstand whatever life threw at her because she had come through the storm.

‘A home.’ She looked out over the boat shed.

‘What did you say?’ Bella cocked her ear to better hear.

‘My home. The Old Boat Shed. It’s mine.’ She beamed, as a plan took shape in her mind.

Miguel met her from the train station, placed her small suitcase on the back seat and drove her out to Thornbury.

‘I’m so glad you’re back.’ He kept glancing at her as he navigated the lanes, as if almost unable to believe she had returned, but also something else – possibly a sixth sense that she carried news he might not want to hear. ‘I had a word with Lionel and you’ve got today and tomorrow to get yourself together and aren’t on the rota until Friday.’

‘Thank you.’ She meant it, as ever, truly grateful for his thoughtfulness.

‘I thought this afternoon you could just nap and I’ll bring you a nice supper and you can settle back in.’